Chapter 926: Arc 9-37

Funny how quickly that changes. It’s the desperate need to be special that puts a cloud over my head as we leave the Hall. A day neck-deep in summoning records should have me grinning, but I can’t shake the dread clinging to my shoulders. It stays with me all the way to the estate, refusing to be dispelled by my ill-gotten luxuries. Even the heat of my favorite shroom juice is useless against it, the bottle I sip while waiting for dinner doing nothing to better my mood.

Talia is the first to join me at the dining table. Not for the first time, or the last I’d bet, I wonder what a woman like her is doing with us. The first time I saw her, I remember thinking that she is what the founders envisioned when drafting the complicated rules that define noble society; effortless grace and presence to separate them from those they meant to rule over.

Her time as a flower has only enhanced her natural abilities. I don’t claim to understand the elven culture surrounding the practice, but it works for Talia. A year ago, I would describe her as a river: fluid as water and possessing a simple charm that hides a will strong enough to carve through the rocks of life.

Under Kierra’s care, that delicate beauty has blossomed into something more substantial. I don’t know what it is; it could be that she has everything she’s ever wanted at her fingertips or perhaps it’s the comfort of being the favored of the strong. Either way, there is a confidence to her now. That combined with a walk meant to draw the eye and her growing control over her features makes her mesmerizing.

Saints, she could walk out of this estate and absolutely ruin this kingdom if she wanted.

Her eyes open as she reaches the table, the inverted black and white a familiar sight after so many months. Her lips quirk in the faint way they do, her sight still a delight. Until she sees me. I’m coming to accept that I’m an open book. She sees my mood; a needle of guilt pricks my heart being the source of the hiccup in her enjoyment. Whatever her thoughts, they’re pushed aside as she takes the chair to my left, ready to fulfill her role through providing comfort.

I motion for her to come closer and she slips out of the chair, perching on my offered thigh. One hand goes around my shoulders for balance; the other slides into my hair, playing with the colorful highlights. She holds her silence and I know she’ll hold it for the rest of the night if she needs to. Perhaps eternity.

Thankfully, I don’t have a fraction of her patience.

“It’s stupid,” I start, an attempt to prepare her for what I can only see as whining.

Her fingers continue their stroking.

“You know how I came to be, well, me. How I was remade.”

“Mm.”

“I visited the Summoning Hall. We hired a summoner to show us around. He asked me about the Grand Idiots, thought they might be connected to me. Soon as I corrected that ridiculous idea, he makes it clear that there are other summoners who’d love to be connected to me. He asked if I had plans for the art in my big vision for the city.”

My fingers drum on the table, a small outlet for my turbulent emotions. “I always planned to make my mark in summoning. I’m a Tome, for saints’ sake. And unlike Mr. Useless who gave away the chance to learn the art properly, they’re proper summoners. They can add value to New Quest in countless ways. More importantly, they can help me now.

“Ever since my rebirth, I’ve wondered what I am. About the secrets in my body. Geneva suggested having them research my origins in my stead.”

“Is that what upset you?” she asks as I trail off. “Not doing the research yourself?”

I scoff. “Please. There are thousands of books in that library. I wouldn’t know where to begin, literally.”

“Then…”

A part of me considers leaving it there; Talia won’t press if I make it clear I don’t want to talk. But I can’t. It’s not because I know I’ll feel better after spilling my guts. Our clan doesn’t hide from each other. We give each other our worst and laugh about it later. Simple as that.

“…I had a thought. If they go looking, they may find him. And if they find him, they can contact him. The chances are so, so low. Barely worth mentioning. No one with proper knowledge of summoning would ever attempt it. Saints, I’d bet none of them have the power to secure the circle. It doesn’t make sense to worry about it. But…it could happen.

“It’s crazy and damn near impossible, but so is what happened to me. There could be an idiot who’s been waiting all his life to meet a god in the flesh or another idiot who doesn’t care if his circle is safe. They could summon Cosmos. They could become like me. And then…”

And then, what will I be? I’m a Tome. There’s always been a limit to my potential, a short ceiling the Grimoires took great pleasure pushing lower every generation. My divine father wants change, something I bring by rote of existence, but I’m afraid is not enough. That he wants more, drastic action, regardless of the consequences.

There are people who won’t think twice about burning the kingdom in exchange for unlimited power. People who won’t run from power but embrace the idea of ruling over others. Madmen who will take my ability to copy forms and replace the king without anyone knowing.

The things I could do if I had the stomach for it. Horrifying doesn’t cover a fraction of it.

I like to think my restraint is a good thing. That Cosmo looked into me and saw something beyond a whim. But, given his last agent is the dragon that nearly destroyed the war, I have my doubts. Dangerous ambition might be exactly what he’s looking for.

What if I wasn’t chosen for anything I could offer, but the best he could do under the circumstances? Rotten fruit in a barren land? What if, the moment there’s another option he…forsakes me? Replaces me?

“ It’s stupid ,” I reiterate. “I have nothing to worry about. My gifts can’t be taken.” I think. No, don’t go there. “Even if…well, it shouldn’t matter. It’s just unpleasant to think about.”

The flower hums in thought. A smile breaks through my unreasonable gloom as I imagine her systematically ordering her thoughts, building the perfect response one word at a time. I look forward to Talia’s advice in particular; one wouldn’t know it looking at her, but she has a history filled with the type of trials that either destroy a person or forges a hero.

“It is not unreasonable,” she begins. “Everyone wants to be loved.”

“I’m plenty loved.”

“There is more than one type of love. You call Cosmo your divine father. It is natural for a daughter to seek a father’s love. To be seen above all others.”

“…it sounds creepy when you put it like that.”

“Creepy, unsavory, your needs are yours. Denying them will do you no favors. Do you remember when I asked if it gave you comfort to believe your Father waits for you in Paradise with the saints?”

I shrug, the words difficult to say.

She doesn’t need me to say them. “Perhaps someone could summon him and receive his favor. Or perhaps you are his favored daughter and no one can replace you. Or even his action requires so much power that he can only do it one every five hundred years.”

That last one is feasible enough I can believe.

“Can you prove it either way?”

“Not without summoning him.” I’m not crazy enough to do that. I damn near worship him, but he is an elemental. You don’t summon them into an unsecure circle.

“What brings you the most comfort to believe?”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It can be. If you let it.”

Is it optimism? No, someone with her past can’t possibly believe in empty promises. It’s pragmatism that forces her to be optimistic as it leads to better results. How very like her.

I brush her cheek with a finger. “Do you ever regret your choice?”

“No,” she answers decisively, leaning into my touch.

“Good. Because I couldn’t let you go,” I admit.

She’s unbothered by the dangerous declaration, peering up at me with her strange gaze that grows more charming every time I see it.

Before I can get carried away, Kierra sweeps into the room with a frown. With a quick look to ask permission, Talia rises and pivots her attention to the one in most need of her services. She moves toward my wife with open arms and Kierra doesn’t hesitate to sweep her up, claiming the chair to my left as she buries her nose in Talia’s neck.

“Nothing, dedia .” She sighs. “I felt, hm. Nauseous? Dizzy and sick.”

“You coming down with something?”

She lifts her head enough for me to see her smirk. “I am growing something.”

“Oh.” The baby is making her sick? “Is that dangerous?”

She chuckles but doesn’t answer.

“No, Lou.” Thankfully, Talia is there to save me from my growing worry. “It’s normal, though I think this is a bit early.”

“Our daughter is already proving a fighter.”

“…is that a bad thing?”

Kierra grimaces, quickly hiding it in Talia’s neck. As the one responsible for her condition, I decide to bury the conversation. Maybe I’ll ask around for medicine. Though there shouldn’t be medicine more powerful than her magic. There must be a good reason why she isn’t handling her symptoms, but there’s no reason for her to suffer.

Alana is the next to enter. She also notices Kierra’s misery. Unlike me, she doesn’t bother to ask what’s wrong, going straight to the comforting, rubbing small circles on the elf’s back.

“Sickness already?”

Kii grunts.

“There’s a long march ahead of you.”

“Why do you sound so amused, star? Perhaps I shall pull you into my misery?”

I snicker as Alana flushes, yanking her hand back as if she’s been scalded. The knight retreats, quickly putting the table between them as she sits to my other side. A kick to my shin silences me but I’m still laughing on the inside.

“I see I am the last one.” Little Water announces herself as she enters the dining room, eyes flicking over the table before she carefully takes the seat one removed from Kierra. I almost tell her to come closer, but the distance is clearly intentional. Respectful, I think. As always, it’s more difficult to read the lady lizard but her tone seems deferential. “Thank you for inviting me to your table, Lou.”

“It’s nothing.” Really, it’s nothing at all. If she’s going to be traveling with us, then everyone should get to know her beyond her role as “Khan’s star-crossed fiancé”. Especially as that will not happen.

And speaking of, there’s someone else that should be at this table if I’m going to explain why the estrazi hasn’t already slunk away into the city’s underbelly.

“Earl.”

With preternatural speed, my steward arrives at my side. He inclines his head. “You have need of me, my lady?”

“Tell Khan he’s invited to dinner and make sure he’s appropriate.”

“Right away.”

“Something happened?” Alana asks.

“Nothing like that. It seems appropriate. Our business is settled and he won’t be our prisoner for much longer.”

One way or the other.